I Smiled
by CSIMel
Summary: When the woman you love is dead and your job isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be, you really don’t have any reason to smile. POSTTWILIGHT ONESHOT


**I SMILED**

**DISCLAIMER: NCIS belongs to 'The Don', everyone knows that!**

**A/N: So, in the spirit of putting off my other fics until the holidays, I have started to write some one shots. This is actually a post-twilight story, a NCIS genre I have never written about. How could this be? Anyhoo, here's my attempt at a post-twilight story. **

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"_How'd you get into NCIS?" Kate asked Tony._

"_I smiled." Tony flashed her one of his thousand-watt grins._

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It helps if you can smile your way through life.

Tony learnt that early on in life. When he was little, all he had to do was give his mother a bright smile and he could get anything he wanted.

Within reason, of course.

In high school, his…skill had gotten him through some tough scrapes and helped him avoid most of the traumas of teenage life. It had helped Tony sweet-talk teachers, make friends and get dates. _Many _dates.

In the Baltimore P.D, his smile had been something of legend. It reassured victims and their families. It put suspects at ease before they could nail them. And it got him countless dates while out in the field. Tony was able to make friends quickly, which would eventually help him later on in life.

His smile aided him in life. It helped him to get fast service, discounts and favours. Complete strangers would buy him drinks. Women would through themselves at him.

Hell, his smile had got him into NCIS.

These days, Tony didn't smile as much.

When the woman you love is dead and your job isn't as fulfilling as it used to be, you really don't have any reason to smile.

His smile had become a mask he could hide behind.

It had gotten him out of 'compulsory' counselling sessions. The last thing he wanted was some government shrink to assess and evaluate his relationship with Kate. To write on some file he was 'damaged' and needed further counselling. In reality that's what Tony really was – 'damaged goods'. Incapable to truly love and incapable to commit.

Now, he was incapable to fucking smile.

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It was Friday night and Tony sits at the same bar in the same stool, like he's done so every week since Kate's death. He's been on a mission, a mission he'd determined to succeed at. Casual sex can't solve Tony's problems; he's knows this. But it can make him forget.

He looks around the crowded bar. A blonde catches his eye and she gives him a seductive smile. He smiles back, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He knows what he has to do.

Tony signals to the bartender.

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He unlocks his front door, slams it shut and throws himself down on the couch.

Mission failed.

Yet another Friday night alone.

He pours himself some scotch and puts on a movie.

_Casablanca._

It was her favourite.

_Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time._

Tony had watched it so many times; he could recite all the lines.

So he settled in for a weekend with his scotch and a silent wish he was anywhere but here.

Preferable with her.

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Tony strode into the NCIS building Monday morning with a dull headache – a reminder of the weekend's events.

"How was weekend, Tony," McGee asks.

Tony flashes his younger co-worker a mega-watt smile.

"Great, Probie," Tony responds enthusiastically. "I met this beautiful woman – Allison I believe her name was. Blonde – a swim-suit model."

"Sounds like a good weekend," McGee replies, envious.

Tony walks over to his desk. He glances over at the desk beside him.

Kate's old desk. Ziva's new desk.

It was days like today where her death hurt the hardest. Where he's constantly on his last nerve and smiling is too hard to even think about.

He picks up a letter off his desk.

He has an appointment with the NCIS counsellor.

Tony scrunches up the letter and dials the number of the shrink's office, forming an excuse to get out of it.

On second thought… 

Tony hangs up the phone, unfolding the letter.

Maybe he'll go after all.

Maybe counselling would help him get past her. To be able to remember her without watching _Casablanca. _Without drinking himself into a stupor.

Maybe then he'd learn to smile again.

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**A/N: I hope you guys like that. The tenses might be a little screwy, I apologize, they're my weakness. My attempt at a post-twilight fic.**

**Click, click bottom left to let me know if it was successful.**


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